Getting Over Oliver Wood
by Patrick the Stump
Summary: Being secretly – or not so secretly - in love with Oliver Wood isn't exactly what you'd call the most pleasant experience in the world. Judging by my history, I just seem to have an unhealthy obsession with guys who are just plain wrong for me -Katie/Zach


**A/N**: Hello beautiful people of the universe and beyond. I don't know how I got the idea for this story; it's probably just my love for Hufflepuffs that nudged me towards writing about Zach. So yeh, in this little oneshot, Katie's fourteen and Zach's only just turned fourteen too.

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><p><span>Getting Over Oliver Wood<span>

I threw my broomstick angrily into the corner, not even caring as my most prized position clattered noisily to the floor. I ran a hand through my wet hair, trying in vain to untangle it even just a little bit. A messy fusion of emotions pulsed through me. I was high on the adrenaline of the Quidditch match, I was furious at the Hufflepuff side, though it wasn't exactly the Diggory boy's fault. I still had the sickening chill in the pit of my stomach from those dreadful Dementors, the ones that had caused Harry to fall from his broom. And then there was, of course, my worry for Harry. Would he be okay? I hadn't seen him fall, it was too dark and the rain was too thick, but I still felt guilty. All the team did, apart from Oliver. He was too cut up over losing the match to worry over a silly thing like someone's life.

I sighed again. And then there was that thing, wasn't there? The thing I had with Oliver, that wasn't really a thing, but was too important not to be a thing. Yeh, there was that. If being a teenage girl wasn't confusing enough already, I had to add boy issues to the pile as well.

Everything was too confusing, apparently. He didn't want to spoil our amazing friendship, he just wasn't really in that place yet, and he had to put Quidditch and school work first. So basically, he'd used every single cliché in the entire flipping book to say 'Nah, sorry Katie, I don't fancy you'. And then he had the audacity to say 'I still want to be friends'. I mean, come on, don't boys know that's the last thing a girl wants to hear?

"Harry's in the hospital wing," said Alicia, coming into the changing rooms behind me. It was almost impossible to tell if her face was smudged with rain or tears, but I suspected it was both. Her eyes were red and her lips were trembling. On top of everything else, it had been a tough Quidditch game. We were all sodden and exhausted, and all we wanted more than anything in the world was to collapse onto the nearest sofa and sleep until Christmas.

Oliver followed Alicia, his robes wet and clinging to his torso. I turned around so as not to face him. Whenever I was around him I felt the sudden urge to fix my hair and step into some heels, which is impossible during Quidditch. I mean, have you tried flying in stilettos? I made that mistake last year and one fell off during practice and hit Hooch over the head. Not the best idea I've ever had, I promise you.

"I can't believe we've lost!" said Oliver, burying his face in his hands.

Was that all he cared about? Angelina made a disgusted noise and Alicia shook her head, and muttered "Boys". But Alicia was wrong, not all boys were as stupid, as infuriating, as completely Quidditch-obsessed as Oliver was. Take Fred and George for instance. They hadn't even bothered to shower, instead pelting straight to the hospital wing. I would go up before bed, but I suspected that the ward would be filled with Harry's many friends, admirers and random nosy students for me to even get a look in.

"I'm going to the Prefect Bathrooms, I just can't be doing with you people at the moment," said Oliver, grabbing his broom and stalking towards the door.

"Us?" I shot, "I suppose it's all _our_ fault, is it? I think you'll find that you're the Captain, Oliver."

"If all of you had just done what I'd told you to do, we wouldn't be in this mess. We've lost the match, the cup and probably our seeker and I've been doing my job. At least I saved a freaking goal, but how many did you _score_ Katie? You're flying has been awful lately, and if you can't control whatever personal issues you've got, then I'm sorry, but you don't deserve to be on the team." With that, Oliver stormed out the door, leaving a trail of water and tension behind him. Scalding tears began to spill over my cheeks as I sank to the floor.

"Katie - " started Alicia, walking towards me.

"Leave it," I told her "Just, go, please," I looked towards her, my eyes pleading.

"But Kate - " she said, as Angelina pulled her away.

"She just wants to be alone," muttered Ang, as she frogmarched Alicia out of the door.

When the two girls were safely out of earshot, I broke down again. This time I did nothing to stop the sobs that shook my entire body and the tears that would soon make a puddle on the floor, that knowing my luck, I would probably drown in. I know it's stupid: crying over a boy when my friend is battered and broken, lying in the hospital wing. I know it's stupid crying over a boy, especially when people are homeless and hungry, but to be honest, teenaged girls aren't the most empathetic of creatures. If love's a bitch, unrequited love's one of those annoying-popular girls with perfect hair, prodding me with a fork every time I even glance at Oliver Wood. So yeh, I guess it's a bitch too. But a bigger bitch – with a fork.

I rinsed the majority of the dirt off with a quick shower, vowing to have a proper feel-good makeover session with the girls in the morning. I dressed as quickly as I could, the prospect of a nice warm bed overruling my protesting muscles and willing me to hurry.

I grabbed my broom from the corner and ran out of the door. I was halfway down the corridor before I heard the triumphant, but still somehow snide voices coming from the Hufflepuff changing rooms.

"Did you see him fall? God, I mean, attention seeking, much?" said the first voice.

"I know. I bet he expected us to throw the match. I mean, the other houses seem to have some twisted impression that we're just_ so _incredibly nice," laughed the second voice, as the pair stepped out of the changing room.

It was Finch-Fletchley and Zacharias Smith, boys whom I knew vaguely from the pitch and the corridors.

I turned to face them, my blood boiling and wand, somehow, already drawn and pointing in their faces.

"Woah!" said Finch-Fletchley, stepping back a little, as Smith just stood still, looking bored.

"Excuse me," I said, my teeth grinding together to stop myself from screaming, "But did I just hear you call Harry Potter a frigging drama queen. He just fell about a thousand feet from the air, landed flat on his back and is in the hospital wing now, recovering. Are you two really such big effing arseholes that, after winning, you can't pay him a bit of respect, eh?" I was surprised by how calm I sounded, when my insides where about to crack and I was on the verge of either brutally murdering the two stupid Hufflepuffs that stood before me, or breaking down into tears again.

"Merlin, are you crazy?" asked Finch-Fletchley, as my wand wavered a few centimeters from his nose, "I was kidding, just messing on okay?"

But with all the fury and pent up energy inside of me, someone else needed to feel at least a little pain.

I slapped him straight across the face.

He stood there, staring at me for a moment, until his cheek turned red from the impact and his own anger. He turned on his heels, almost running along the corridor. He looked embarrassed and furious at the same time.

"Psycho-bitch!" he called as he turned the corridor, heading, I was guessing, for the Hufflepuff common room.

"God, you guys are such cowards!" I yelled, stamping my feet almost comically.

"Go on then," I said to his friend, jerking my head towards Smith "Run off, like your little friend. Stupid, idiotic, good-for-nothing Hufflepuff!"

"I'm not going anywhere," said the cocky third year, a smirk forming on his pale face.

I stepped forward, feeling the sudden urge to start kicking and screaming like a small child. I shoved the boy's shoulders hard, glaring at him. I didn't want to hit anyone else tonight; I wasn't normally a violent person.

When Smith refused to move, I shoved him again, harder this time. I was angry at everything and everyone in the entire world. Well, what do you expect? I'm a fourteen-year-old girl; you can't get any more volatile than that.

After shoving him once more, Smith grabbed hold of my wrists, pinning them to my side. He was in the year below, but somehow seemed to tower above me already. He was tall, sure, but with his lanky frame he wasn't the type of guy you'd expect to be strong. I was proved wrong, however, by the fact that I just couldn't seem to free my arms.

I growled at him, kicking out with my legs, my face turning an attractive beetroot colour.

"Christ, you're a bit moody aren't you?" smirked Smith "Time of the month?"

Oh. My. God.

I actually saw red.

I yanked myself free but instead of running, I stepped right up to him, on my tiptoes so that I could look right into his eyes.

"Now listen here, I'm going to give you a piece of advice. Never, ever say that to anyone belonging to the female species ever again. You will most certainly die a most horrible, painful death. And wipe that stupid Goddamn smirk off your face!"

At the last part, he let out a booming laugh that echoed around the corridor, "Don't try to boss me about, Katie Bell. I don't know who you think you are, but honestly, I'd get down from your high horse and stop thinking you're a million times better than everyone else."

I was shocked, but I recovered quickly. "You're just impossible," I sighed, turning around, ready to storm out dramatically.

"Now who's a coward?" commented Smith as I walked past him and along the corridor.

Why did he feel the need to have the last word? Why did _I_?

I turned around, a witty reply in hand, but it died as I realised just how close he was. And by close, I mean really close – like, I can feel your breath tickling the tip of my nose and see every single one of your super-long, fair eyelashes, close.

My heartbeat quickened and my breath became a little deeper, as it does when you suddenly realise you're in the presence of a rather cute guy whose lips are about a centimeter away from your own.

I felt his hand on my waist, pulling me just that tiny bit closer. Close enough for our lips to meet. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he wasn't sure of what to make of it all. I found myself somehow taking charge of the situation, deepening the kiss and letting him know I was okay with the whole thing. I don't know why I was okay with it. I'd been in love with Oliver for two and a half years, so really, I shouldn't be okay with snogging the face off another guy. Especially not an arrogant, conceited git like Zacharias Smith. But I was okay with it, and so, it seemed, was the arrogant conceited git.

Smith raised one hand from my waist, tangling it in my already messed up hair. My hands traveled upwards, exploring his shoulders, his neck, his soft, almost fluffy hair. I felt his smile on my lips, and I broke away, out of breath but grinning like a loon. I looked back at him, a smile spreading across his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes glistening in the semi-darkness of the corridor. He too, it appeared, had a habit of grinning like an absolute fool.

~xx~

I glanced towards the Hufflepuff table for the ninth time that morning, immediately meeting Zacharias' eyes, blushing, and looking away again.

"He's really cute," said Alicia, who knew the whole story, including his body language, facial expressions, kissing techniques and just exactly what each and every one of his words actually meant. She was my guru and soul confidant when it came to guys.

"Damn right," I smiled, taking a bite of toast.

"Uh-Oh," said Alicia, looking up and down the Gryffindor table, "Mega man-bitch of the century heading your way."

I turned to see Oliver, making his way over to where we sat.

"Hey Katie," he said, sitting opposite me "We need to talk, I think."

Alicia looked left and right, sent me an apologetic smile, and said, "Uh yeh, I was just leaving."

Oliver waited until Licia was well out of the way, until he said, "Look, I shouldn't have said what I said last night. I was pissed off and I just wasn't thinking straight. Look, we can't have our Quidditch team falling apart over things like this. I want to make it up to you; I was thinking the two of us could do something next Hogsmeade weekend. What do you think?"

I hadn't got over Oliver so much that I didn't even consider spending the weekend with him, but I didn't get the usual butterfly feeling I got in my stomach when he said something that made me feel like he was remotely interested in me. But I was just starting to see through his charade, just starting to realise what he really cared about. 'We can't have our Quidditch team falling apart over things like this' – Quidditch, that's all he was bothered about. Taking me out would be more of a good deed than a date. Taking one for the team, that sort of thing.

"No thanks Oliver, I'd rather not spoil the amazing friendship we've got," I told him, smiling sweetly.

He must have heard the bitterness in my tone, because he persisted, "Oh come on Katie, just one drink at the Three Broomsticks. It won't hurt."

"The thing is," I told him, "I'm not really in that place yet."

He crinkled his nose, not really sure what to make of it all, "Are you sure? You know, it'd be fun."

"Sorry Oliver, but I really need to start putting Quidditch and my school work first," I told him, smirking.

He stood up; looking a little put out, and began to walk away.

"Oliver," I called, over the heads of several fifth years, which turned to look at who I was shouting at.

"Yeh?" he called back hopefully.

"We can still be friends, right?" I yelled across the hall, unable to stop a huge grin spreading across my face.

Oliver just turned swiftly and exited the hall, a pink tinge spreading across his cheeks.

I caught sight of Zacharias' face at the Hufflepuff table; he winked at me, stood up and beckoned me to follow him. I ruffled Alicia's hair as I passed, and she gave me the all-clear signal; No skirt tucked in my knickers, no food in my teeth, and no sudden outbreak of huge, disgusting spots. That made a change.

~xx~

"So," said Zach, as we walked idly along the corridor. He looked expectantly at me.

"So," I repeated.

"So, we kissed. It was awesome, and well, I just thought we could do something next Hogsmeade trip," he said.

"Well – I don't really want to spoil our amazing -" but he cut me off with a scathing look, and I felt a smile tug at my own cheeks.

"Go on then, Smith," I told him "It's destined to be one big, fat epic fail, but I'll go to Hogsmeade with you."

As he took hold of my hand, a thought flitted through my mind. I hadn't got over Oliver, not by a long shot, but I had somehow managed to replace him with an equally stupid, infuriating, Quidditch obsessed teenaged guy. But there was one, subtle difference this time. Maybe, for once in my life, the guy might just like me back.

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><p><strong>AN:** Ooops, I seem to have accidentally bashed Oliver a bit. I swear, I love Oliver, but the little man who lives inside my head basically forced me to write this. I mean, I know? Who goes 'Oh, I'll just go write a fic about Katie and Zach.' My muse is a weirdo. He doesn't have a name yet though, any suggestions?

So, you can scream or shout at me for butchering Oliver if you like. It wasn't intentional, I'm just saying. I'd love a review, if you have the time. They really do make my day. I may continue with this if any inspiration hits, so just let me know if anything comes to mind.

And thank you very much to **Woodrow Rynne** for the read-through. She's a wonderful writer that you can find on my favorites, so check out her stories of you've got some time.


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